Camp Gatewood
by KayValo87
Summary: Deciding his family needed a break, Jeff sends the boys off to a specialized summer camp. The place was made for the wealthy ... and run by the desperate!
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so this story is written for Silver Bee since it was inspired by an event that happened in their story "Perfect Cousin". :)

It is unedited and my first story with these characters, so please be kind.

**DISCLAIMER: **I own nothing, I only wish I did.

I hope you enjoy it ...**  
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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

Jeff Tracy sighed and rubbed his temples, trying to suppress his rising headache. If he had known how much trouble it would be to go from multi-millionaire to billionaire, he might have stayed a small time businessman. As it was, he was starting to miss his days in NASA. He loved his family more then anything in the world, but sometimes the idea of a month of silence was REALLY appealing. Which, coincidently, led him to his current problem and the two angry boys on the other side of his desk.

"Why do we all have to go?" Scott demanded. "John and I can just stay here and take care of Grandma."

"Because if you stay here, Grandma will try to take care of YOU." Jeff said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. "Besides, I have already made arrangements for her to stay in a top rated facility."

"She's gonna hate that." John pointed out.

Of course, Jeff already knew that having shared his plans with her that morning. But like it or hate it, his mother had just had hip surgery and needed to be taken care of. So did his boys, and that was exactly why all five where going to camp while he flew to New York to take care of his business.

"Let me worry about that." He said firmly. "You two better go and pack."

"But Dad-"

"No buts John!" He snapped. "You're all going and that is final! Now get out of here and let me work!"

John gave him an almost fearful look and raced out of the room. Scott's face was a blend of shock and anger before he followed his brother. As soon as the door slid closed, Jeff buried his face in his hands. What was wrong with him? He had promised himself after he lost his wife that he would be a good father, that he would never raise his voice in anger. Granted, he had broken his rule before, but that was rare and never at John. It looks like he needed this break more then his family did. He knew that neither Scott nor John were interested in summer camp. At seventeen and fifteen, both were old enough to stay home alone, but ever since the press released his net worth Jeff had been terrified someone might try to go after him, or worse, one of them. He didn't care about the money, but he would never forgive himself if one of his boys got hurt by someone trying to get to get rich quick. This camp was designed for the children of people like him. Top rate luxury coupled with top rate security, it seemed like the perfect solution to his problem. The three youngest where on board, especially after they saw the list of available activities. Olympic-size swimming pool, go-cart racing, music and art studios; it was like a dream come true for them. But even with all the promised entertainment, Scott would much rather stay home and hang out with his friends, none of which qualified to go to the camp with him. And John, well he was never that social. Even the offer of star gazing didn't appeal, since his own telescope was more then adequate and didn't require him to leave his room. Still, the security the camp offered made up for any grumbling. His decision was final, they were going.

***T*H*U*N*D*E*R*B*I*R*D*S*A*R*E*G*O***

"It's not gonna be that bad." Virgil said gently and he helped Scott load up their jet. "And it's only for a few weeks."

"It's not that." Scott muttered, shoving one of their bags in with more force then necessary. "It's just … he didn't even ask us if we wanted to go."

Virgil nodded and handed another bag up to his brother. Scott could see a depressed slump in the fourteen-year-old's shoulders and paused. Something was up and his big brother instincts overrode anything else he had been feeling.

"You okay?"

"Fine." He mumbled.

Unconvinced, the oldest brother hopped out of the hold and squatted down so they were at eye level.

"What's the problem."

"Nothing." Virgil shook his head. "It's stupid."

He tried to hand Scott another bag, but he just pushed it aside.

"You're not getting off that easy. What's wrong?"

"I …" Virgil dropped his gaze to the floor. "I feel guilty."

"About what?"

"I'm … I'm glad your two are coming."

"Why would you feel guilty about THAT?"

"Because you and John are so upset with Dad and … I just feel bad that I'm so happy when you are not."

Virgil shuffled his feet muttering another apology, and Scott felt like kicking himself. He was so wrapped up in wanted to hang out with his friends, he hadn't even thought about spending time with his brothers. He placed his hand o the kid's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Hey. It's okay. You know I can never stay mad at Dad long. Besides, once we get there and start having fun, I'm sure I'll be glad I went."

"Really?" Virgil asked hopefully, raising his gaze to his brother.

"Really. Now why don't you go help with dinner while I finish up here."

"Sure thing, Scott." He smiled and ran away.

Man, the oldest brother thought to himself as he shoved another bag into the hold, that kid sure knows how to push my buttons. Virgil could tick him off or calm him down with a single sentence. Then again, all his brothers could, but for some reason Virgil was just the best at it. Maybe it was because he never used it for evil like Gordon or Alan did.

***T*H*U*N*D*E*R*B*I*R*D*S*A*R*E*G*O***

As soon as Virgil entered the kitchen, he went over to the sink to wash his hands. With Dad working, Grandma resting, and the older boys sulking; the youngest brothers had taken over all the cooking. Between the three of them they managed to keep the family from starving, but the would be much happier once they were free of kitchen duty. Especially since the camp they were going to had a five star caterer.

"Did he buy it?" Alan asked as he pulled buns out of the cupboard.

"Of course he did."

"Great." Gordon grinned, turning over the burgers on the grill. "And since you already charmed Grandma, after dinner we can let you loose on John."

Virgil took up his place and the cutting board and grabbed a bag of tomatoes. With any luck, they would have a peaceful flight tomorrow. Who knows, maybe even help with breakfast. John did make some pretty good scrambled eggs.

***T*H*U*N*D*E*R*B*I*R*D*S*A*R*E*G*O***

"Sir?"

Anthony Devlin looked up from his papers to see his right hand man standing in the doorway. He waved him in and turned back to his work, smiling at the list of confirmed reservations. This camp was working out better then he had ever dreamed.

"Are things ready for tomorrow, Joesph?"

"Yes sir. The children are due to start arriving at ten."

"Good. Good." Devlin nodded. "The staff have been prepped?"

"They are all on standby."

Perfect. He scanned over the list of names, grin widening as he recognized each one. Lady Elisabeth Waldon, only child of the Duke of Braham. Richard Pearson, sole heir to the largest shipbuilding company in the world. Terrence Underwood IV, son of oil tycoon Terrence Underwood III. Jeffery and Katherine Marriott, heirs of Marriott Shipping International. Scott, John, Virgil, Gordon, and Alan Tracy; son of the billionaire ex-astronaut Jeff Tracy. And the list just kept going. Each name bigger then the last and each paying a fortune for three weeks in luxury. If only they knew.

"And the mercenaries? Are they ready?"

"Awaiting your orders, sir."

"It looks like everything was in place then."

Tomorrow they would set their plan into action. They would welcome the brats, spoil them rotten, and make their parents pay handsomely for their safe return. It was almost too easy.

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><p>So? What do you think? (Aside from the spelling and grammar that I already know sucks.)<p>

Let me know and I will get started on chapter 2. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry for the wait, but I wanted to make sure I got someone to look over it before I posted. My beta search took quite a while, so I kept expanding the chapter while I waited. (Hence the double length) I did manage to find a beta, but we are still working out the details there.

In the meantime, Sammygirl1963 was nice enough to help with characterization and my awesome brother-in-law, LinkXZ, did a spelling and grammar check. Thanks guys, you both rock!

Here ya go ...**  
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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Scott slung his military style duffel over his shoulder and turned to survey the camp. He had been camping a few times when he was younger, before his mom died and his dad's business demanded a lot of his time. They had tents, camp fires, and even rented canoes. This place looked more like a resort then a summer camp. Based on the number of limos pulling in and out, as well as a couple of helijets dropping off campers, that is exactly what this place was.

"Check this place out!" Alan exclaimed, looking around.

"Yeah," John muttered, "roughing it for the rich and famous."

"Look, there's the lake!" Gordon half shouted. "I wonder where the pool is."

"I don't see why they need a lake and a pool." John commented.

"Simple," Gordon replied. "You can't jet ski in a pool and it's hard to put a high dive in a lake."

"Come on boys." Jeff called.

They followed their father into the air conditioned main building where a receptionist was waiting.

"Good morning, and welcome to Camp Gatewood." She said with the biggest smile Scott had ever seen. "May I have your last name please."

"Tracy."

"One moment." She turned to the computer. "I see five names here."

"Yeah, my sons."

"Great. Just sign this form, while I print out your boys' itineraries."

Scott adjusted his grip on his bag while he waited for all the paperwork to be finished, startled when someone placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see a smiling man wearing a white polo shirt and khaki slacks.

"May I take your bag for you sir?"

"No, thanks." Scott muttered. "I got it."

He turned and repeated the request to the rest of the boys, but each insisted they were fine, the youngest two asking for directions to the pool and go-carts.

"All in good time, young sirs." The man replied and turned to offer his assistance to another arriving guest.

"Here you go boys." Jeff turned and passed out booklets.

Scott took his and opened it one handed. Inside was a letter, addressed to him, welcoming him to the camp. On the opposite page was a map that marked which lodge he would be staying in.

"I'm in Silver lodge." Virgil said looking over his paper. "Where are you guys?"

"Titanium lodge." John answered.

"Bronze." Gordon added.

"They must be aware of your future Olympic achievements." Alan teased.

"Shut up!" Gordon shoved his shoulder.

"Knock it off you two." Jeff warned. "Alan, what lodge are you in?"

"Nickel." He looked up at Scott. "How about you?"

"Platinum."

"How come you got the good one." Gordon grumbled.

The oldest brother couldn't help but smile when the perky receptionist made his whining little brother jump.

"The cabins are divided up by age. The boys lodges are named after of metals and the girls lodges after jewels, both going in order of least expensive for the younger campers to most expensive for the older campers."

"Thanks." Gordon said with a uncomfortable smile.

He hurried outside, followed by his four snickering brothers. Clearly the woman didn't know good natured ribbing when she saw it. Back at the car the boys said goodbye to their dad and split up to find their cabins. Platinum was easy enough to find, being right next to the tennis court and across from the day spa. Scott was just heading inside when he notice a set of gorgeous blond twins going into the Diamond lodge next door. Though one of the two didn't seem to notice him, the other flashed him a smile before slipping inside. This camp was looking better already.

***T*H*U*N*D*E*R*B*I*R*D*S*A*R*E*G*O***

Virgil made his way into his lodge, which was almost as big as the barn back home, and looked around. There where four beds on the main floor, two doors in the back, and two spiral staircases that both led to a loft containing two more beds. Each bed was flanked by a nightstand and a full sized wardrobe. There were crystal lamps on each table and a chocolate on each pillow. This wasn't a camp, it was a hotel!

"Hello there," a man said, stepping out through one of the doors.

He was tall and thin with tanned skin and slick blond hair. He was dressed similarly to the other staff in pressed khaki slacks and a royal blue polo, the camp name embroidered over the pocket in gold thread.

"I am Jackson, the valet here in Silver Lodge. Can I take your bag?"

"Um … no thanks. I'm fine."

"Alright then. If you need anything, just ring."

Jackson disappeared back into his room leaving Virgil to get to know the two campers who were already getting settled. One was a black haired boy with dark brown eyes who was unloading his suitcase. The other was a smartly dressed blond reading a magazine.

"This bed is empty." The black haired boy offered, motioning to the spot next to his.

"Thanks." Virgil smiled, setting his bag on the midnight blue comforter. "I'm Virgil."

"Max," the other boys said, shaking his hand. "This your first time at Camp Gatewood?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Nope," Max sighed, "fourth."

"Doesn't sound like you like it very much."

"It doesn't matter." Max shrugged. "My dad is a business associate of Mr. Gatewood and is one of the founders the camp. I have to come every year."

Virgil studied his roommate as he glumly put his clothes away. It kinda reminded him of Scott and John when their Dad announced his plans for their summer. However, the difference was their dad had promised them that is they didn't like the camp they didn't have to go back. Looks like Max wasn't so lucky.

"Where would you rather be?"

Max stopped and stared at him, as if no one had ever asked him that question before. Then again, based on what he had already said about his dad, that might very well be true.

"Honestly?" Max started hesitantly.

Virgil nodded, urging him to continue. The other boy looked around, as if any moment someone would jump out and stop him from speaking his mind.

"Venice." Max whispered. "My second step-mom has her studio there. I don't get to see her much since the divorce, but-"

"Maxwell," their roommate interrupted from behind his magazine, "you're distracting me."

"Arthur, I don't care," Max shot back with a glare.

Dark blue eyes scowled over the top of the magazine before a hand reached out and pressed a button on the corner of the table. A moment later, Jackson emerged from his room.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Cromwell?"

"They are distracting me, I want them gone."

"I am terribly sorry, but Mr. Tracy and Mr. Radcliffe are assigned these quarters. Perhaps I could bring you some music or you can move to the private patio?"

"I don't want to move." Arthur grumbled. "Bring the music; something with class. All this rugged terrain is making me itch."

"Right away, Mr. Cromwell."

He slipped out of the lodge and Arthur went back to his reading. A minute later he came back with a portable music player and headphones, which the boy immediately took without a word of thanks and crammed them on his head.

"I'm hungry." Arthur announced.

"Lunch will be served within the hour, Mr. Cromwell."

"That's too long. Get me a snack."

"Yes Mr. Cromwell."

Again, Jackson slipped out, leaving a stunned Virgil behind. If he or his brothers EVER acted like that his Grandma would have whichever boy's hide, not to mention what his dad would do. He shot Max a questioning look, but the other boy just shrugged and returned to unpacking.

"It's best to just ignore Arthur," Max stated. "He's one of those kids born with a silver spoon in his mouth and then complained that it wasn't gold."

Virgil snickered and turned back to his wardrobe. He had just finished filling one Suddenly there was a loud banging sound coming from the front door.

"ARTHUR!" A voice yelled. "ARTHUR OPEN UP!"

"He tick off someone?" Virgil guessed.

"I wouldn't put it past him, but that sounds like his brother."

"Oh man," Virgil groaned, "there's TWO of them?"

Max chuckled and tapped Arthur's foot to get his attention. With a dramatic sigh, the other teen removed his headphones and gave them an annoyed look.

"What do you-"

"AR-THUR!"

"Oh, what now," he mumbled, pushing himself off the bed.

He quickly crossed over and pulled open the door. Outside there stood a slightly smaller version of Arthur, but with lighter eyes. The younger boy had raised his first to knock again, but lowered his hand to point at his older brother.

"Call Father. I will not stay here with these … riffraff."

"Edward, Father has told you time and again, everyone here is of the highest society. Though I must admit, THIS year I have some doubts." He eyed Virgil warily.

"Well, I would like to know which society that is, because these people have housed me with-"

"Aw, there ya are, roomie!"

Virgil fought hard to suppress his laughter when Gordon came into view. His little bother was covered in dirt, had stuck a long blade of grass between his teeth, and was speaking in a heavy, backwoods, drawl. The best part was the look of horror on Arthur's face. Priceless.

"Good lord!" The boy exclaimed quietly. "What IS that THING?"

"Shoot, I done told ya, y'all can't hide from me." Gordon grinned, slapping a dirty hand against the other boy's shoulder. "Come on now, let's go cow tippin'!"

At this point, Virgil had to clamp his hand over his mouth too keep his laughter in. Max gave him a puzzled looked, but all he could do was franticly wave at the other boy not to ruin it. As his dusty kid brother took a step forward, both of the Cromwell boys took off running toward the main structure, calling for security. Once they were gone Virgil let himself go and he and Gordon dissolved into fits of laughter.

"Man!" Gordon chuckled, getting himself under control and retrieving his grass from where it had fallen. "These rich kids are WAY too easy."

He reached under the lodge steps and pulled out a long brown blade He held out his new one to his older brother, simultaneously grabbing his and sticking it back between his teeth.

"Come on Virg," his eyes sparkled with mischief, "let's go scare us some snobs."

***T*H*U*N*D*E*R*B*I*R*D*S*A*R*E*G*O***

John smiled, enjoying the cool breeze that rustled the leaves of the shade trees, including the one he was currently perched in. As impressive as the amenities of this summer camp were, they were nothing compared to the ones nature provided. This oak in particular made a perfect sanctuary. Enough leaves to hide him from anyone who was not directly under him, but not enough to keep the sunlight off his book. And it was Close enough to his lodge for easy access, but not so close as to be forced to listen to the pros and cons of polo or which club had the best squash court. It never ceased to amaze him how people with everything could care so much about nothing.

"Hey Johnny-boy! What'cha doin' in that there tree? Ya stuck?"

John lowered his book and looked down at the puzzling sight below him. There was Virgil, a black haired kid he didn't know, and a dirt covered Gordon. All three had long pieces of grass sticking out of their mouths.

"No Gordon, I am not stuck. What are you doing?"

"Wer all scarin' us some snobs." Virgil responded, mimicking his brother's hillbilly accent.

"My ideer." Gordon said proudly.

"I'm makin' them think it's contagious." Their companion added.

"Catchin', Max," Gordon corrected. "Yer makin' um think it's catchin'"

"Right, catchin'," the boy amended. "That's what I meant."

"Right," John echoed, shaking his head. "Have fun, and remember, I don't know any of you."

He returned to his book and pretended to ignore the trio, but experience caused him to still keep an ear out for trouble. Virgil may not be as bad as Alan, but anyone backing one of Gordon's schemes was someone to stay clear of until the dust settled.

"Oh wow," Max exclaimed quietly.

"What?" Gordon whispered excitedly. "You see another victim?"

"Hardly. It's just that Lorraine Astor seems to have finally gotten over her break up, but I don't know who the-"

"SCOTTY!"

"What the-? GORDON!"

John snapped his book shut and started to climb down. If what he thought was happening, was in fact happening, then he needed to play mediator between the annoyed and annoying. Such was the life of the second born. Sure enough, he made it over just in time to pry a filthy Gordon's arms off his big brother's waist before said big brother broke said arms. Standing next to Scott, looking very confused, was a blond girl that John could only assume was Lorraine Astor. She was very pretty with bright blue eyes and long golden hair, pulled back in such a way that it even made her ponytail look elegant. If Gordon ruined Scott's chances with this girl there was sure to be bloodshed.

"Um … Scott?"

"I'm sorry, Lorraine. It's just my idiot brother," he muttered, trying to dust off his shirt. "John, can you take them somewhere else?"

"Sure Scott. Come on guys."

"Aw, but-"

John wrapped his hand over Gordon's mouth before he could dig himself in deeper. Knowing his brother, the red-head was already in for massive retaliation. No need to make things worse.

"Sorry Scott." Virgil murmured, looking downcast. "He moved too fast, I couldn't stop him."

The oldest brother, though still clearly annoyed, gave him a half smile.

"Hey, not your fault we are related to trouble incarnate."

Gordon shot him a glare, but the hand over his mouth muffled any protests. He was just about to lead the younger boys away when Lorraine spoke up.

"So, these are your brothers?"

"Three out of four." Scott answered.

"Where's the fourth one?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off when a boy, about Alan's age went running past.

"Someone call security! Tracy has gone CRAZY!"

Uh-oh. Based on the looks on his brother's faces, John could tell he was not the only one with a bad feeling.

"Max," Virgil turned to his friend, "please tell mer there is someone who goes here named Tracy besides us."

"Not that I know of."

Scott muttered and apology to Lorraine and took off in the direction that the boy had come from, the rest of them at his heels. Soon they came upon a group of kids huddled around two boys. A boy with brown hair and a red and black sweater-vest was curled up on the ground screaming for everyone from his mother to security. On top of him, a look of pure fury on his face, was Alan. Scott took one look at the situation and pulled his youngest brother off while John helped the other boy to his feet.

"Don't bother," Alan spat, "let him take care of himself, if he knows how."

"You're lucky," the boy shot back, suddenly braver now that he was standing. "If I had a fencing sword in my hand I would have thrashed you."

"Please," Alan rolled his eyes. "If you had a fencing sword I would have thrown a rock at you."

Gordon snorted and all three of his older brothers sent him a reprimanding look. They needed to defuse this situation, and fast, if they didn't want to get kicked out on day one. Seeing as how Scott looked like he was ready to pummel someone himself, John stepped forward and, in interest of diplomacy, started with Alan's bleeding victim.

"What happened?"

"This ruffian thinks he is on my level," the boy explained, prodding at his busted nose.

"Okay," John replied slowly, repositioning himself between his brothers and the kid. "Then what happened."

"I told him to go home and take the rest of his trashy family with him. That's when he attacked me."

"Hey Grayson," Max called bitterly. "These guys ARE his family."

The boy paled and took a step back, as if expecting all five Tracy's to finish what Alan started. Granted all of them wanted to, and a few were even likely, but John stayed in his spot as human shield. No matter how much the spoiled brat deserved it, he wasn't going to let the whole camp think of his family as a bunch of thugs.

"What is going on here?" A deep voice demanded.

John looked up at see a man in a fine suite accompanied by a man in a black polo. This didn't look good. Grayson turned to them with a look of utter relief.

"Mr. Devlon, I am so glad you're here. This boy attacked me!" He pointed an accusing finger at Alan. "I want him banned from Camp Gatewood for life!"

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><p>So, how much trouble do you think Alan is in?<p>

Let em know what you think while I write up the next chapter. (I'll try to have it up a lot sooner then this one.)


	3. Chapter 3

First off I would like to that everyone who has reviewed so far. I really appriciate the support with my first story in this catagory.

Second, I would like to tip my hat to LiGi, my wonderful beta, for her help with this chapter. You're awesome. :)

Now, on with the show ...**  
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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

Jeff glanced at his watch. Normally, he would be doing this to calculate how long it would be until his plane landed, but this flight he had other things on his mind. Five other things to be exact. He couldn't explain it, but he had a funny feeling that something was wrong with his boys. Now this could just be a parental desire to have all your children where you can see them and keep them safe, but it didn't change his need to check in on them. He flipped out his own camp itinerary, one made for the parents that had both the camp schedule and contact numbers, and saw that they should be on their way to lunch. Maybe he would wait until later to call …

"Get a hold of yourself," he muttered under his breath.

His boys were not little kids anymore and they certainly didn't need someone hovering over them … well, most of them didn't. Gordon and Alan were still known to cause problems if left to their own devices. Maybe it _would_ be better to check in, remind them to behave. Then again, Scott was there and he would keep them in line. Yeah, Jeff thought as he settled back into his seat, the boys were fine. After all, they had only been there for an hour or so. What could have happen?

***T*U*N*D*E*R*B*I*R*D*S*A*R*E*G*O***

Scott tightened his grip on Alan, silently warning him not to say or do anything to make the situation worse. Surprisingly, Mr. Devlon just smiled and shook his head.

"Now now, boys," he scolded gently, "lets not have hostility here. After all, it's only the first day. You haven't yet had the chance to get to know each other."

"But Mr. Devlon," Grayson protested, "that boy-"

"There is no need for hostilities, Mr. Paisley," the camp director interrupted, in an almost cheerful tone. "After all, Mr. Tracy here is one of the elite, just like you. In fact, his father just reached the status of billionaire. So why don't you just be friends and let's all have lunch, shall we?"

He waved the crowd of spectators away and headed down the road towards the dining hall, leaving five stunned Tracys behind. Scott was so surprised at the turn of events he almost let Alan go, but a dirty look from Grayson reminded him not to. Looking over at his other brothers, he could tell they were just as confused as he was.

"So let me get this straight," Virgil started. "Our dad is a billionaire, so we can get away with murder?"

"Welcome to Camp Gatewood." His black haired friend shrugged.

"That's so wrong," John muttered.

"It's not wrong, it's insane," Scott added.

"This is going to be awesome!" Gordon grinned.

All four of his brothers stared at him like he had grown a new head, but they really shouldn't be that surprised. Concerned, yes, scared, possibly, but not surprised. There was tons of stuff the second youngest could only dream of doing without getting grounded until he reached voting age. If this place wasn't going to put restrictions on his brother's behavior, then he would have to.

"Whatever you are thinking, know this," Scott almost whispered. "I have the numbers for both Dad's direct line and Grandma's room at the treatment center."

Gordon scowled at him, knowing as well as Scott did that, even if the camp didn't care what he did, those two would and they were a whole lot scarier. That should keep him down to his usual level of mischief, which was still trouble but didn't include setting anything on fire. And now that his youngest brothers were subdued, for the most part, they had better head down to the dining hall. Scott had just turned to lead the way when he noticed Loraine watching him. Had she been there the whole time?

"Sorry about that," he muttered, glaring at his youngest brothers.

"No, it's okay," she said with an amused smile. "Actually, it was kind of nice to see one of the Paisley boys taken down a notch."

"There's more of them?" Virgil questioned, before turning to his friend. "And how many of _you_ are there?"

The black haired boy laughed, clapping Virgil on the shoulder.

"I'm the one and only," he answered. "Though I do have the odd step-sibling."

"Max!" Loraine gave him a look of mock anger. "I am not odd."

"You are also not my step-sibling," Max pointed out with a grin. "Or at least … not in the traditional sense."

"How exactly do you have a non-traditional step-sibling?" John wondered.

Lorraine opened her mouth to answer, but stopped when a group of girls started calling her name. She waved back, then turned to give the boys an apologetic smile.

"I have to go make an appearance," she muttered. "Will you save me a seat, Scott?"

The hopeful look in her eyes made him grin and he quickly agreed. She smiled back, until the girls called her again and she reluctantly pulled away from their group and over to her friends. Scott watched her go and turned back to see five grinning boys.

"What?"

"Will you save me a seat too?" Gordon asked sweetly, batting his eyelashes.

"Shut up!"

The other four burst into laughter as Scott shoved his red-haired brother farther down the path. Lorraine might make the next three weeks bearable, but his brothers were going to make it a very long three weeks.

***T*H*U*N*D*E*R*B*I*R*D*S*A*R*E*G*O***

Still snickering at Gordon's comment, Virgil decided to be nice to his eldest brother and turned back to Max, who was leading the way from the edge of the group.

"So, what's this whole non-traditional step-sibling thing?"

"Oh, it's pretty simple," he replied. "My fourth step-mom married her dad. Since the link is not by blood, we're not really sure what that makes us, but the girls seemed to like the idea of having a kid brother."

"Girls plural?" John raised an eyebrow.

"Lorraine and Charmaine," Scott answered from his place in front. "They're twins."

"Hey John," Gordon nudged the older blond, waggling his eyebrows. "Maybe Scott could put in a good word for you."

He answered with only a glare, but Max vigorously shook his head.

"Oh, no no no. John doesn't want to go out with Charmaine."

"Why not?" Alan wondered.

"As Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, 'every sweet has its sour', and Lorraine is very sweet."

Based on the low murmuring, each Tracy got the meaning loud and clear, probably making a mental note to stay away from that particular Astor. Virgil just hoped they would be able to tell the difference. However, before he could ask, John changed the subject.

"I notice you left out the second half of that quote, and by that I assume that Charmaine is not evil."

"No, Lorraine's good parallels other evils, such as her ex-boyfriend or our shared step-mother."

"You had a wicked step-mother?" Alan and Gordon questioned in unison.

"Actually, I had three … well … two. Bridgette wasn't all that evil. Jeramey on the other hand ..."

"What?" Alan's eye's grew wide.

"Your dad married someone named Jeramey?" Gordon exclaimed with equal surprise.

Max laughed and turned slightly so he could face the youngest of the brothers, not seeing the group of three that had spread up behind him. Virgil was about to say something, but the boys moved around their group to pass them.

"No," Max shook his head. "Jeramey is-"

Suddenly, one of the three teens stuck something out and Max started to tumble head first down the dusty hill.

* * *

><p>Remember, the Tracys aren't the only ones rich enough to get away with murder ...<p>

Please let me know what you think. In the mean time, I will get to work on the next chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

Okay, sorry about the delay here. I was really nervous about the amount of info given in this chapter (which is why it is so long) but it had to be said so things could start happening.

Thanks again to LiGi for her wonderful beta work.

Enjoy ...**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

"Max!"

Scott turned at the sound of his brother's shout, just in time to catch their new friend before he tumbled the rest of the way down the hill. Virgil rushed to the boy's side while Scott helped him up and John kept hold of their two youngest brothers. Good idea, since Scott was pretty sure the three laughing teens with the croquet mallet might have had something to do with Max's fall.

"You okay?" Virgil asked, checking him over for injuries.

Max gave him a small smile of reassurance, before scowling at the older boys.

"Really mature, guys," he muttered.

"What?" the one with the mallet asked innocently, motioning to Gordon. "I thought you just wanted to match your friend over there. Good look for you, Maxie."

"Well, I'd tell you to go match your friends, but that would be assuming you had any."

"And who do you think we are?" one of the other two demanded.

"Um … third class sheep looking for a hand out?"

The pair turned red and stormed forward. Scott didn't know exactly how Max had insulted them, but he also didn't want their new friend hurt, so he swiftly moved between him and the charging bullies. The two boys stopped and glared at him. The whole trio looked to be around John's age, but all three were smaller then the oldest Tracy. He also had Virgil as back up, even though he was smaller then all three, since John would be too busy keeping their youngest brothers out of the fight to lend a hand.

"You hired bodyguards this year?" the ringleader sneered. "I always knew you were a wimp."

"They aren't bodyguards," Max said calmly. "They are the five sons of a billionaire. Go ahead and fight them. See what happens."

A brief look of fear crossed over the faces of the two boys and they backed up to their ringleader, who just glared down at Max with a look of pure hatred.

"We'll finish this later," he vowed, and quickly led his small group down the hill.

Once they were gone, Scott turned to do his own assessment of Max's condition. A couple of minor bruises and some dirt, but no blood. He'd be fine. Now to the next topic-

"Who was _that_ jerk?" Alan demanded, catching a ride on his big brother's train of thought.

"_That_ was Jeramey, my ex-step-brother," Max replied, dusting himself off.

"And the two guys with him?" John questioned.

"Jacob Fisher and Tony DeLuca. You don't need to worry about them. They talk tough, but rarely follow through."

"You know a lot about this camp," Scott observed as they continued their trek down the hill.

"I should," Max muttered. "I've been coming here since year one."

"One more question," John started.

"Just one?" Alan interrupted.

John ignored him and sped up slightly so he was even with Max.

"Why did you call them 'third class sheep'? I thought everyone here _was_ first class."

"They are, but-" Max shook his head. "I think I need to give you a crash course in Camp Gatewood survival."

***T*H*U*N*D*E*R*B*I*R*D*S*A*R*E*G*O***

Jeff entered the large auditorium and took his seat, noticing that he was among the first to arrive. He didn't normally attend these types of liquidation sales, but there was always the chance that he might find something useful. On the other hand, his mind was still preoccupied with the dark feeling that something was wrong with his boys. Once again flipping out the itinerary, and checking the time, Jeff saw that his boys would be just sitting down to lunch right about now. Had it really only been twenty minutes since he looked it over in the air?

"Your kid at Camp Gatewood?"

Looking up, Jeff saw a man, just a few years younger then he was, taking the seat next to him. He was wearing an expensive suit, not unlike the rest of the people in the room, and had jet black hair and dark brown eyes.

"Lawrence Radcliffe, owner and operator of Radcliffe Technologies International," the man said proudly, holding out his hand. "I am one of the founders of the camp."

"Oh, nice to meet you," Jeff replied, giving him a firm handshake. "Jeff Tracy."

"The astronaut? I've heard a lot about you. My son is a fan."

"Oh, you have children?"

"Just my boy," Lawrence answered. "Hey, did you hear about that video chip that just came out on the market. It's supposed to improve video quality in aircraft by fifty percent."

"I know," Jeff replied dryly. "My company made it. How does your son like the camp?"

"I'm sure he loves it. What kid wouldn't?"

"You've never asked him?"

"Oh you know how kids are," Lawrence waved his hand in the air. "If there was something he wanted me to know, he would tell me."

Without giving Jeff the chance to point out that many kids only willingly came to their parents like that if they had a problem, Lawrence launched into a discussion about his company's stocks and how well they were doing. What was wrong with this man? Most parents he knew couldn't stop talking about their kids. Jeff had found himself on many occasions pulling out his wallet to show off pictures of his boys. This guy acted as if he barely knew that he HAD a son, and quite frankly he didn't know if he should give him pity or punch him in the face.

"Did your son say anything when you dropped him off?"

The man scowled at the interruption and once again waved his hand dismissively.

"I didn't drop him off, my driver did. Now then-"

"When was the last time you saw him."

"What?… I don't know … last week?"

"Last week?"

"Look, Max is fourteen-year-old kid who wants to see the world and paint it. He is moody, immature, and would much rather keep me at arms length. So, I am giving him what he wants."

"What about what he needs?" Jeff demanded, leaning more towards the idea of punching the guy.

Lawrence stood and glared down at the Tracy patriarch.

"Why don't you worry about your own kid and let me worry about mine."

With that, he stormed off and took another seat, as far from his former spot as it appeared he could get. When the auction started, Lawrence was still slumped in his chair, scowling at the stage. Jeff sincerely hoped that this boy, Max, wasn't nearly as moody and immature as his father. Otherwise, he would not be the only Tracy longing to clobber a Radcliffe.

***T*H*U*N*D*E*R*B*I*R*D*S*A*R*E*G*O***

Sitting at one of the dozen or so tables in the dining hall, Gordon couldn't help but feel like he was back at their Dad's last awards dinner. Grandma had made them all wear suits and they were expected to behave like gentleman. Hard to do when you are eleven, though it was pretty funny watching Scott and John try to remain composed after he and Alan put ice down their backs. Good times. Of course, now his older brothers knew better then to turn their backs on him, so he was forced to find other victims. And look, there was Edward, the kid who thought dirt was contagious, sitting with his older brother and looking very unhappy. The staff must have told them that the Tracy family was staying. Oh, and at the table next to them was Grayson, the kid who called them trash. He had cleaned himself up and changed his shirt, but there wasn't much he could do about the fact his eye was turning purple. And look at that, the waiters had been nice enough to leave cups of ice sitting at the table. How thoughtful of them. He should probably take some over to Grayson and Edward, to make sure they wouldn't over heat and-

"Don't even think about it, Gordon," Scott hissed, shoving the smaller boy into a chair.

Man! It sucked when Scott went all responsible on him. Why couldn't they go back to the old days when he would distract John long enough for him to slip a can of worms into his bed? Even Virgil was trying to act more grown up just because Scott was. These days it seemed his youngest brother was his only ally. Well, so be it. Those three could have their maturity, he and Alan were going to have fun. That is, as soon as the others weren't watching.

"Alright," Max started once they were all seated. "The first thing you need to know about Camp Gatewood is the order of class. It's an unofficial ranking system that shows seniority based on family value."

"Meaning?" Gordon prodded.

"Money is power," he simplified. "No one can even get in here unless their parent, or parents, have a net worth of at least ten million. If the net worth is under a hundred million, they are third class. If it is a billion or more they are first class. The rest of us are second class. If a fight breaks out, the blame is laid on the lowest class person, regardless of who started it."  
>"What class are you?"<p>

"Alan!" Scott scolded, with a look that rivaled their father's.

"It's okay, Scott," the black haired boy assured him, before turning to the youngest Tracy. "The way things sit now, I am in the higher end of second class. Give me ten years, and I will be a billionaire in my own right."

Gordon, ever curious about a scheme, even if it didn't include green Jello in your older brother's socks, leaned forward a little. Having a rich dad was one thing, but going from heir to self-made billionaire was a little different. Max didn't seem like the hostile, corporate take over type, so he had to wonder how the kid planned to do it. And he wasn't the only one.

"How so?" Scott questioned.

"Well, Dad wanted me to go into business, so he gave me a ski resort for my thirteenth birthday."

"Holy cow!" Alan exclaimed. "And I thought Gordon was lucky to get scuba gear! All Scott got for his thirteenth birthday was a bike."

Gordon had to stifle a laugh as his oldest brother glared at his youngest. It was true though, with each year of growth for Tracy Enterprises their birthday presents got better. But if Max's dad wasn't even a billionaire, how come he got a ski resort? Some kids had all the luck.

"Anyway," Max continued, "after I started to co-run the resort, I won't get full control until I am eighteen, I found out about a small hotel on the coast of Italy. It had fallen into disrepair and was on the verge of closing. So I bought it, hired the owners to run it, and funded any renovations that needed to be made. Now it is better then ever. That got me thinking, and at this point I own five resorts and hotels around the world. They aren't all making money yet, but given time they should become quite profitable. Also, I plan to triple the property number by the time I am eighteen, and double that by age twenty-four. From there, it's a straight shot to billionaire, if I haven't already reached that point."

Wow, Gordon thought to himself, this kid was a tycoon. He would probably get along great with their dad, since he did essentially the same thing with technology corporations. He could tell by the looks on his brothers' faces that they were thinking along the same lines.

"Your dad must be really proud," John commented.

For a second Max's face fell, but he quickly regained composure and continued to explain camp life. This confused Gordon so much that he paid no attention as Max pointed out the various people to befriend or stay away from, as well as their connections to each other. Wasn't his dad proud of him? Jeff Tracy would be declaring from the rooftops that his son was a business genius if any of them managed to buy, turn around, and run ONE hotel, much less five. There was only one way that he could think of that would result in Max's dad not being proud of him, because no other option was acceptable.

"Does your dad even _know_ what you are doing?" Gordon blurted out, cutting Max off mid-sentence.

The black-haired boy looked startled, but there was sadness in his eyes. Gordon was just about to call him on it when something slammed down on his foot. He yelped, turning to glare at the brother sitting next to him. Virgil held his stare with one just as dark.

"Don't interrupt," he hissed.

Translation; let him tell us what he wants to tell us and leave the rest alone. Seeing that both Scott and John agreed with Virgil, even if Alan looked like he also wanted answers, Gordon caved and slumped back into his seat.

"Sorry about that," John said with a small smile. "Go on."

"Right. Um … the Cromwell brothers are snobs, but harmless. All bark and no bite. You know about the Astors. Katherine and Jeffery Marriott are okay, but they are extremely sheltered. Don't mention you live on a farm or else they will plague you with questions about what it's like to be poor."

"But, we were never poor," Virgil pointed out.

"They live in a mansion in upstate New York and never leave their grounds, except when visiting their _castle_ in France. For them, a farm is as poor as it gets," Max explained, scanning the room. "Okay, Rich Pearson is someone to look out for. He makes even Arthur look like a saint. They're also rivals and, I'm sorry to say, both in Silver Lodge."

Virgil muttered something under his breath while he poured himself a glance of lemonade. Gordon had to admit, he was glad he wasn't in Silver Lodge.

"But John, you are the one who really needs to watch your back," Max warned the second oldest Tracy. "Not only do you have Terrence Underwood IV and A.J. McIntyre bringing the biggest rivalry of the camp into your lodge, but you will also have to deal with Wallace Paisley and Jeramey."

John let out a groan while Gordon sized up the growing list of potential victims. Terrence had cold, dark eyes that matched his slicked back dark hair. He was dressed in a cream colored button up shirt with a black tie and vest. Clearly a stuck up nerd. A.J. McIntyre was across the room wearing a white polo shirt and dark slacks, with a weird looking tennis racket leaning against his chair. Clearly a stuck up jock. His eyes shifted over to where the three Paisleys were sitting. Wallace looked like a clone of the other two, without Grayson's black eye or the king of everything complex that his older brother seemed to posses. Gordon watched as Marshall Paisley took a sip of his lemonade and turned his nose up in disgust, demanding to the closest waiter that it was not sweet enough and the whole pitcher needed to be redone immediately. Spoiled jerk. Maybe the waiter would let him spit in his food …

"Gordon," Scott warned quietly. "No."

It was official, his big brother was psychic. In any case, there were too many witnesses for him to do anything really great right here. But if any of these jerks did something to one of his brothers, Scott or no Scott, the gloves would come off. Then, Edward Cromwell wouldn't be the only person who feared Gordon Tracy.

* * *

><p>What do you think of Max and his dad? (Any votes for Jeff to punch Lawrence?)<p>

Let me know what you think and I will type up the next chapter as soon as I can.

NOTE: I am leaving for a camping trip tomorrow and won't be home until Sunday night, so it might be a while before I post again, but i will try to type up the next chapter and send it to LiGi before I go.


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry about the wait. This past week I started a new job and my fiancé went to the hospital, so I've been kinda busy.

A huge thanks to the awesome JulesDPM for her beta work. :)

Enjoy ...

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<br>**

"How do you like your steak, Scott?"

Alan rolled his eyes, not so much at Lorraine's question, but the way she said it. In that girly voice, looking at him all innocently, it was enough to make a guy gag. On the upside, the more nauseating their behavior came, the better it would be to blackmail his brother with later. If only he had a video camera …

"It's great. How's your … um … that is chicken, isn't it?"

Alan snickered at the look on Scott's face. Gordon, of course, had the reaction, while even Virgil had a bit of trouble hiding his smile. John, being the wet blanket that he tended to be sometimes, whispered to Scott that her unrecognizable meal actually was some form of stuffed chicken. Honestly, before she had cut into it to reveal that it was meat, Alan had though they gave her some weird kind of bread and couldn't really blame his oldest brother for being confused.

"Lor!"

Alan turned to see who was yelling and almost had to do a double take. Approaching their table was … Lorraine? No, Lorraine was wearing shorts, this girl was wearing a skirt. Must be Charmaine.

"What do you need, Char?"

Charmaine opened her mouth to answer, but then seemed to notice the other people at the table for the first time, particularly the dirty ones. She gave Gordon a brief look of disgust before turning to Max.

"Maxwell, what were you doing in the dirt? More importantly, why didn't you change before lunch?"

"Jeramey tripped me on the hill and I was lazy," Max answered dryly.

She rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath about either dogs or peasants. Maybe both. Alan was on the opposite side of the table and couldn't hear her very well.

"See? This is why your dad should have taken them for everything in the divorce, then Jeramey wouldn't be able to come here."

"Charmaine, it was THEIR money," Max pointed out. "Dad and Bridget kept separate accounts their entire relationship. He couldn't touch her funds any more then she could have gone after his."

"I still think he should have sued her."

"For WHAT?" Max exclaimed.

"I don't know," Charmaine shrugged. "Emotional trauma? That Jeramey is … is … I don't even know a word for what he is."

"A jerk?" Virgil suggested.  
>"Neanderthal?" John added.<p>

"Meathead?" Alan chimed in.

"Son of a-"

"Gordon!" Scott snapped.

Alan couldn't help but snicker once again at the glare his oldest brother was giving Gordon, not to mention the innocent look he was getting in return. Charmaine didn't seem to notice and turned back to her sister.

"Lor, I need your phone card."

"No, use your own."

Alan shared a puzzled look with his brothers before turning to their guide. Max pulled out his itinerary booklet and flipped it open to the last page before dropping it on the table. Tucked in a clear sleeve was a small black card, Max's name printed across the glossy surface in gold letters.

"This is a phone card," he explained between bites. "They work on any vidphone here and allow us one call a day, no time limit."

"And I need to make two calls," Charmaine stated, reaching for her honorary brother's booklet.

Quick as a flash, Max snatched his itinerary back and shoved it into his pocket. Charmaine scowled at him before once again trying to sway her sister, but Lorraine just shook her head. Growling in frustration, she actually turned to the closest Tracy.

"Give me yours," she ordered.

John, who had returned to eating his lunch, nearly choked in surprise at her sudden demand. He just stared at her before looking over at Lorraine, silently asking how serious the girl was. Gordon, however, seized the opportunity to be … well … Gordon. He leaned forward, wavering his hand slowly past his face.

"You don't need to see his phone card."

"What?" Charmaine asked, looking as if she had no idea why he was even talking to her.

"These aren't the droids you're looking for," Alan chimed in, intimidating his brothers movements.

"Huh?" Charmaine took a small step back, her puzzled gaze shifting between the youngest Tracys. "What are you-"

"He can go about his business." Gordon interrupted.

"Move along." Alan finished.

Surprisingly, it actually worked. Charmaine, looking a little scared and more then a little confused, back away to another table. The two youngest brothers laughed, sharing a triumphant high-five, before realizing the rest of the table looked just about as confused as the girl had.

"Come on," Alan groaned, rolling his eyes. "You gotta remember that movie. It's a science fiction classic."

"Ignore them," Gordon said dismissively, returning his attention to his lunch. "They have no sense of culture."

***T*H*U*N*D*E*R*B*I*R*D*S*A*R*E*G*O***

Devlon looked out into the sea of tables where all the children sat, blissfully unaware of what was happening behind the scenes. The last camper had arrived at 11:30 that morning, twenty minutes before Joesph reported a massive threat two miles to the south that needed immediate attention. Now, with most of their security gone, the camp had been locked up tight. All that was left to do was take out the few security guards that remained and change the codes. Between his faithful assistant and his own private army, Devlon would have everything in place by the time the brats were served dinner. And the beauty of his plan, the kids would never know.

"Sir?"

"Yes Joesph?"

"I have taken care of the … er … lock situation."

"Excellent," The camp director breathed. "And how many of the parents are in attendance of at the auction I set up?"

"Nearly all of them. The Duke of Brahm canceled at the last minute, but we have his direct line."

"Minor inconvenience."

Devlin pulled his gaze away from the children and turned to his assistant. Maybe he could up the price a bit on a few of the children and give the man a bonus. Without Joesph to keep the staff thinking it was business as usual, he would have never been able to pull this off. Of course, the fact he was his nephew also helped when it came to loyalty, but still. If only Mr. Gatewood had treated him the same as he treated Joesph instead of dumping him with the job of keeping dozens of spoiled brats happy for three weeks straight every year, this might not have become necessary. The thought may not have even crossed his mind, but now there was no turning back.

"While I do my speech, I want you to cut communications with the camp and send word to the mercenaries. This starts tonight."

Joesph nodded and slipped out the exit door. Devlin took a deep breath to get back into role of caring camp director and stepped out to the raised podium at the end of the dinning room.

"Welcome to Camp Gatewood," he announced.

Most of the kids had not even bothered to look his way, and the rest just glanced up briefly as if his presence was just a minor annoyance in their normally perfect lives. Not for the first time, he toyed with the idea of telling the brats they were trapped and now at his mercy, but thought better of it. If they even believed him, he would then have to deal with a bunch of highly strung and temperamental snobs having tantrums because he took their freedom away. Who would want to deal with that? No, unless they forced his hand, there was no need to tell them.

"We are in for a very special year," he continued, unable to hide his grin. "Our largest and most spectacular yet …"

***T*H*U*N*D*E*R*B*I*R*D*S*A*R*E*G*O***

Scott walked along the lake, trying to place the dark feeling that had been growing since lunch. Something about Mr. Devlon's smile … Whatever it was, it gave the older brother the creeps and suddenly three weeks couldn't go by fast enough.

"Hey, Tracy!"

His head snapping up when he heard his name called, Scott groaned inwardly when he saw who was heading his way. They had never officially met, but Max had pointed him out at lunch. Marshall Paisley, the oldest of three jerks.

"What do you want?"

"I saw you today," he sneered. "I saw you hooking up with my girl."

"I don't know what you are talking about," Scott replied honestly, trying to step around the other teen.

"You know EXACTLY what I mean!" Marshall hissed. "And you better stay away from Lorraine from now on if you know what's good for you."

"You better take your own advice!"

Scott looked over to see Max storming their way with Virgil not far behind. As much as he appreciated the help, he didn't want his little brother or their new friend anywhere near this guy if he was half as violent as he looked. He knew the type, had run into them at school, and they had no problem picking on kids smaller than them just to get a rise out of an older sibling. Unfortunately, it always worked.

"I got this, guys," Scott said, motioning for them not to come any closer.

"Yeah, don't you have more people to spy on?" Marshall spat, glaring down Max.

"It's not spying when the cameras are clearly visible," Max shot back. "You were the one stupid enough to cheat on MY sister at MY resort."

"I wasn't cheating on anyone! I took Gretchen skiing as a favor to my dad."

"And I suppose he also told you to make out on the ski-lift?"

Marshall took a step towards the smaller boy, but Scott swiftly moved in the way. He had little tolerance for people who messed with his friends, just about at much as he had for people who cheated on their girlfriends.

"Sounds like it was your own stupidity that cost you your chance with Lorraine," he said coolly. "So, I am only going to say this once, back off. If I hear that you have come anywhere near her or Max you are going to have to deal with me."

"Are you threatening me?"

"No, I'm warning you."

Glaring darkly, first at Scott then at the two younger boys, Marshall stalked off down the edge of the lake. It would have been a very dramatic exit if he had not tripped a couple yards down and stumbled face first into the water. Jumping to his feet, he quickly regained his composure and stormed out of sight. Once he was gone a familiar copper-top popped out of the bushes. He didn't.

"Gordon!" Scott scolded, even as Max and Virgil dissolved into laughter.

"Oh, come on," Gordon grinned, as he re-buried his rope. "Mr. Devlon told us to have fun. Besides, I'm only tripping the jerks anyway."

Deciding not to ask how many 'jerks' had passed so far, Scott just turned and headed the other direction. His little brother was good enough at pranks not to get caught, and fast enough to get away if he was. Like Gordon said, he was only doing it to the jerks, so it wasn't as if they didn't deserve it. And even Scott had to admit, watching Marshall Paisley flailing in two feet of water was hilarious!

* * *

><p>Looks like Gordon's having fun, huh? But what about Scott? Also Devlon's plans are falling in place, which doesn't look good for our boys.<p>

How well do you think Jeff going to take the news that he has been manipulated by someone else's disgruntled employee?

I'll get back to writing the next chapter now. In the meantime, feedback and suggestions are always welcome. :)


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry for the massive wait on this one. (I didn't give up on it, real life was just out to kill me.)

The important thing is that I am back to writing and, as I stated in the final chapter of "Breaking Point" ...

**For my New Years Resolution I pledge to finish all my active stories before 12/31/12. **

**(And I do mean all of them)**

So, here is the first update of many. A big thanks to my wonderful betas JulesDPM and MissBubbles for sticking with me all this time. (You're both awesome.)

Enjoy ...

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

John closed his book with a satisfied sigh and carefully made his way down from the branches of his new favorite spot. Upon reaching the ground he glanced at his watch. It was still several hours until dinner, even longer until dark. Looked like it was time to find a new book. But when he opened his lodge door he saw all his books were already out … along with everything else he had put away. A boy, who he was pretty sure was not even in this lodge, was emptying his wardrobe onto the floor while a second teen with slick black hair looked on, a stack of luggage at his feet.

"What do you think you're doing?" John demanded.

"You need to move," the dark haired teen stated. "You were in my spot."

John stepped forward and caught the last drawer before its contents joined the pile on the floor. Max had already explained enough for him to know the sleeping arrangement was first come first served, but he had also been warned that the members of his particular lodge made their own rules. Well, he didn't care who this guy was. John had been among the first in the cabin and had chosen the bed by the door. Had the other kid asked him to move, he might have obliged, but he was not about to bend to a bully.

"Well, find a new spot," he snapped, yanking his property out of the lackey's hands.

All eyes were on John as he shoved past the stunned teen and put the drawer back in place. He gathered up the rest of his things and was halfway done refolding his clothes when the guy finally found his voice.

"Excuse me? You clearly don't know who you are talking to."

"I know enough," John replied, tucking his shirts back into the wardrobe without looking up.

"Oh really?"

This time he did turn around to face the other boy. Perhaps he had been spending too much time with Scott or maybe he had picked up some impulsiveness from Gordon or Alan. In any case, John looked that bully straight in the eye and told him everything he knew about him.

"I know you are a spoiled selfish cad who, either through bribery or manipulation, has never once had to deal with the word no. I know your family is rich and you feel that gives you some kind of power over everyone else. I also know that whoever you are or whatever control you think you have, it is not enough to make me move. So either you suck it up and choose another place to sleep or get ready for a fight; because I grew up with four brothers and I am more than able to take you down."

Their gazes remained locked until the other boy backed off, sending his lackey to move his stuff to the empty wardrobe across the aisle. As they unpacked, John went back to putting his own stuff away, wary of the fact every one of his roommates was now watching him. It was an eerie feeling, but he wasn't sure yet if it was good or bad. As far as he knew, he had only upset the one guy … come to think of it, he did look familiar …

"So, you're letting the new guy walk all over you, eh Underwood?"

"I wouldn't look so smug if I were you, McIntyre. From what I hear, your records are set to be broken by two of his younger brothers before the week is out."

"Are you referring to Gordon Tracy's alleged swimming skill or Alan Tracy's supposed driving ability?" McIntyre replied dismissively. "Because I was breaking records with the backstroke before either of them could doggy paddle. And as far as the go-karts races … well, let's just say I'll wait until he can see over the steering wheel before I get too worried about that."

A few people laughed, the rest scowled, and John saw red. This guy didn't know the first thing about either of his brothers and he dared judge their abilities based on age and size? Clearly, the guy had not spent much time on a farm. Gordon was in the water almost before he could walk, and Alan had started driving tractors and mowers when he was five, racing anything with an engine since he was eight. Unless he was nearly Olympic level, this snob didn't stand a chance against either one of them. So John took a deep breath, counted to ten, and then calmly set the record straight.

"Unless you were breaking records before preschool, I doubt you would be much match for Gordon," he stated in a cool tone. "And as far as Alan's driving goes, I think you should be less worried about how much he can see and more worried about avoiding his dust, because he is going to smoke you."

Once again silence fell over the cabin and the half who had not been glaring before now were. Great, John thought to himself. He just got himself smack into the middle of the biggest rivalry in the camp. He should have fought harder to stay home. This was going to be a very long three weeks.

***T*H*U*N*D*E*R*B*I*R*D*S*A*R*E*G*O***

Scott stepped out of his lodge on the way to dinner, surprised to see John hanging around the door to the day spa. Knowing that his brother was more likely waiting for him than checking out the available services, he headed that way. Still, the big brother in him couldn't let the situation pass without a little good natured ribbing.

"Hey," Scott greeted with a smile. "You looking at getting a facial or a mud bath, because I heard that the mud they use is imported."

"That wouldn't surprise me," John replied dryly.

Without another word, he turned and headed down the path toward the dining hall, Scott right beside him. Based on the subtle slump to his shoulders and the way his eyes darted to the edges of the path every few seconds, something was seriously bothering him. This was concerning in more ways than one. First of all, Scott didn't like it when something upset any one of his brothers. Second, this was John. He was a natural mediator and it took quite a bit to ruffle his feathers.

"So, what's up?"

"I think I've alienated myself from my entire cabin."

"How so?"

"I upset both sides of the biggest rivalry in camp."

"How did you do that?"

"I didn't move to a new bed when Terrence Underwood told me too. Then I told that stuck up AJ McIntyre that both Gordon and Alan could whip him in their respective sports."

"So, you stood up for yourself and told the truth?" Scott summarized.

"Basically."

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that John was on the look out for retaliation, hence why he waited for him before heading down the hill to dinner. Remembering what Max said about both Jeremy and Wallace Paisley being in John's cabin as well, Scott was also starting to get an uneasy feeling about John staying in Titanium Lodge. Maybe there was some way he could move to Platinum or Silver Lodge. He would have to ask Max when they got to dinner. Until then, he was going to keep an eye on his brothers, all of them. With this many enemies hanging around, Camp Gatewood was becoming a pretty dangerous place to be a Tracy.

***T*H*U*N*D*E*R*B*I*R*D*S*A*R*E*G*O***

Jeff checked his watch again. He had no idea how long this auction was supposed to last and he'd been hoping to check in with his boys before dinner. Maybe he would just slip out for a quick phone call, it wasn't as if he was bidding on anything anyway. Suddenly, the screen behind the auctioneer changed to show a man in a suit. He didn't recognize him, but based on the crowd's reaction, a few of them did.

"Devlon, what on earth do you think you are doing?" An overweight man in the front row bellowed.

"I'm doing what I have been paid to do, Mr. Gatewood," the face on the screen smiled. "I'm taking charge."

While several of the people in the room let out cries of outrage or confusion, Jeff wracked his brain to remember where he had heard that name before. Tapping his itinerary against his knee, he suddenly remembered who the man on the screen was and a dark feeling grew in the pit of his stomach.

"Oh, please God, no," he whispered to himself.

"Yes," Devlon laughed, as if he heard the quiet plea. "Each and every one of you has sent at least one child off to camp … my camp. The only question is … how much will you pay to bring them home?"

It had happened. The one thing he had been trying to prevent had happened. His worst nightmare had come true and now his sons were at the hands of a mad man.

* * *

><p>So? Was it worth the wait?<p>

Let me know while I get the next chapter finished and sent to my awesome betas. (It's becoming double length, but I have most of it done already.)


	7. Chapter 7

Bet you weren't expecting an update on this story were ya?

Fact of the matter is, I had this chapter nearly finished a long time ago. (Probably around the time drama hit my life like a hurricane.)

Anyway, I'm trying to finish all my stories, so whichever one my muse wants to work on is getting updated and my muse wanted me to wrap up this chapter and get it posted.

Huge thanks to the most patient beta in the world, JulesDPM, and all the readers/reviewers who have yet to abandon me. :)

Enjoy ...

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

Jeff could only sit there, torn between rage and fear, as Devlon laughed in triumph at his plan. But the billionaire failed to find the humor in it, and he wasn't the only one.

"You're insane if you think we are going to pay you a cent!" one woman shouted from the far side of the room.

"When I'm through with you, you'll wish you had never been born!" a man vowed from the opposite corner.

"You'll regret this, Devlon!" Mr Gatewood roared.

"Funny you should say that," the mad man said thoughtfully. "The thing is, I regret the day I suggested this camp to you. Oh, it was stroke of brilliance to be sure, but I never wanted to run the darn thing."

As they watched, Devlon's face changed from a smug grin to a wicked snarl. He clenched his fists, staring off into some unseen part of the world. Maybe to where he was holding the children. Oh please God, Jeff prayed silently, please let my boys be okay.

"Day after day, week after week, year after year," Devlon hissed. "I put up with the complaints and the requests. The bickering and the backstabbing. The wild parties and the crazy stunts. And what do I get in return? Another year to do it all over again. Well, no more! I'm taking what I have earned, and you are all going to pay."

"What exactly do you want?" a man near Jeff demanded.

"All in good time, Mr. Astor," he replied with a sly grin. "Until then, you will all stay in this place. My people will bring you anything you may require. Once I have finished pricing your children, you will be contacted individually."

His causal comment about putting a price on their children generated several cries of outrage, Jeff's included. How dare this man try to put a monetary value on his sons, on any of their sons and daughters. The way he was feeling now, he would rather rip off the guy's arm and beat him to death with it. But the fact was he would willingly give this man every cent he owned if that's what is took to bring his boys back safe and sound. The money was just money, he could always get more. Family was his real fortune, and he was not going to lose that to a mad man.

***T*H*U*N*D*E*R*B*I*R*D*S*A*R*E*G*O***

Scott entered the grand dining room and headed straight for the table his younger brothers had currently claimed, glancing at his watch along the way. The place was closed to campers until fifteen minutes before the meal was served, giving only valets unlimited access in case one of their charges wanted a snack. This meant that Gordon and Alan had four minutes from the time the doors opened until now to get into trouble. Darn. He had been hoping to give them a smaller window.

"Hey guys!" Gordon said cheerfully as they took their seats … a bit too cheerfully.

"You seem happy," John commented, eying the red head warily.

"Why wouldn't I be? It's a great camp."

Yeah right, Scott thought to himself, He double checked his place setting, and John's, before scanning the rest of the table for something out of place. He quickly found something, or rather someone. Sitting next to Alan was a boy, about the same age as his youngest brother, with light brown hair and pale blue eyes.

"Hello," John greeted the newcomer.

"Hi," he grinned.

"This is Dennis Cramer," Alan explained. "He's one of my roommates."

"One of the better ones," Max commented, joining them with Virgil. "Good to see you again, DC."

"Always a pleasure, Maxwell," Dennis replied, tipping an invisible hat to the older boy, before turning back to Alan. "You are SO lucky you met him day one. Last year was my first time. I didn't get the survival guide until it was almost week three."

"It wasn't **that** bad," Max muttered, grabbing a bread roll from the silver bowl in the center of the table. "No one who goes here, with the exception of a select few, is creative enough to do anything more then hide your shoes."

As comforting as that thought was, Scott could see the wheels turning in the minds of a couple of the 'select few' at that very moment. Of course, for his youngest brothers, hiding clothing items was child's play. No, they were dreaming up something much less mundane and he was was going to have to put a stop to it immediately before Camp Gatewood became the setting for World War Three.

***T*H*U*N*D*E*R*B*I*R*D*S*A*R*E*G*O***

"What gives you the right to put a price on our children?" Lawrence Radcliffe shouted.

"Interesting that **you**, of all people, should ask me that," Devlon smirked. "Because wasn't it you that paid some boys to play with your son after he told you he didn't have any friends?"

"Who told you about that?"

"Oh, it was the talk of the camp year one. Young Maxwell nearly put himself into exile over it, but you didn't know that did you?"

Turning red, Lawrence suddenly seemed fascinated with his watch. Clearly he had no idea what had been happening with his son, not that it was much of a shock after what Jeff had just heard. He didn't blame the kid one bit for not talking to his father if that was the way Lawrence handled things.

"Oh, don't feel too bad, Mr. Radcliffe," Devlon continued with mock sympathy. "You are not the only parent to be out of touch. In fact, I probably know all of your brats better then you do."

Jeff knew that wasn't the case, but he could only speak for himself. Looking around at the other parents, he could tell that several were well aware of their lack of insight into their children's lives. Of course, being the bitter employee Devlon was, just mentioning their failings was not enough.

"Mr. Astor, are you aware that all the long talks that Charmaine has with her designers are not about buying clothes? In fact, she has not worn a single one of Bruno's original pieces in years and only a few of Pierre's."

"That is absurd!" Mr. Astor interrupted. "Charmaine gets a brand new wardrobe every season."

"You are right about that, sir. But the truth is, she has been designing her own clothes and has them make them for her. In return for the free wardrobe, they get the rights to anything she gives them. Not very business savvy if you ask me. She would do well to take a few lessons from her brother."

"Charmaine doesn't even have a brother!" Mr. Astor protested, though his confidence was clearly shaken.

"Not in the traditional sense, no, but both of your daughters have agreed that Maxwell is their brother ever since you married one of his father's cast off wives. Speaking of which, Radcliffe, camp gossip is a bit conflicted this year. Are you on wife number six or seven?"

Lawrence gave no answer, instead just glaring at the man on the screen. This hardly seemed to deter Devlon though. He simply shrugged and scanned the crowd, possibly looking for his next victim.

"No matter, I could always ask Maxwell to set the record straight, or Katherine Marriott. She has been up to date on all the latest gossip since our first year, her brother too." He smiled at a man that Jeff assumed was Mr. Marriott. "Just a warning, the two of them are planning to break out of their mansion and see the world as soon as you leave the country. Not that I blame them. It must be miserable being trapped in a place you hate. Young Terrence Underwood knows the feeling, since he has seriously considered burning down his private school. On the flip side Elise Jermaine once petitioned to stay at her school over winter break just to avoid spending the holidays with her step-siblings. Luckily for her, the prenup left them too poor to attend camp after the divorce. Lamont Hastings however …"

Every child mentioned made Jeff feel sick. How could so many people be so out of touch with their children? Was this what it meant to be rich? If that was true, Jeff would gladly relinquish his fortune. He wouldn't give up time with his boys for anything … but he did. He sent them to camp so that he could get work done. It wasn't quite the same as sealing them away in a mansion ten months out of the year or mailing them a birthday card from another continent because you are too busy to call, but it stung none the less.

"And Mr. Tracy," Devlon continued, smiling in delight. "Your son has quite the temper on him."

"Yes," Jeff replied calmly. "We have been working on that, but Alan does better if his brothers are nearby. Scott and John especially seem to be a calming influence on him."

His comment not only silenced the room, it silenced the mad man. But Jeff barely noticed the surprise on the faces of the other parents, his focus was on Devlon. The disgruntled director gaped at him for a moment before regaining his composure.

"Well, I don't know how much time Scott will have for corralling his brothers with all the attention he is receiving."

The man smiled slyly and Jeff knew exactly what he was doing. The cretin was testing him, trying to show how little he knew his sons. Well, if he wanted to play that game, fine. No one knew his boys better than him.

"So the girls have fallen for him already, have they?" Jeff replied. "Scott always was a charmer, but he is far too much of a gentleman to string many of them along. His attention is going to be on one girl and one girl only."

Based on the glare he was getting, Jeff knew he had hit the nail on the head. But Devlon didn't seem to want to back down and quickly came up with something else to try.

"Then maybe he should give John some pointers, because he has already broken two hearts since arriving."

"Who are you trying to bluff?" Jeff scoffed. "John barely talks to girls and has probably tucked himself in a corner somewhere with one of his novels. I would bet that the only times you have even seen him is at meals or when he's stopping a fight."

Devlon literally growled at that one as he looked down at him, his eyes burning in rage. But Jeff was not going to back down. In the end, the camp director took a deep breath and gave his final statement.

"I will call back when I have finished pricing the children."

With that the screen went black.

* * *

><p>What do you think? It was a lot of Jeff, I know, but I thought you would all like to see how the parents are handling the situation.<p>

So, what would you like to see in the next chapter, more parents or more campers?

P.S. anyone want to venture a guess as to what certain younger Tracys are cooking up?


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